


Borderline

by Lyrar



Category: Angel: the Series, Boondock Saints (Movies), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), John Dies at the End - David Wong, Red Eye (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, Heroin, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrar/pseuds/Lyrar
Summary: Alisha Winchester is, most definitely, the black sheep of the family. Being diagnosed with BPD at fifteen, she was always more vulnerable than the rest; Vulnerable to pain, abandonment, addiction, anything life could give her. Life could never take her hunting, though, so she obsessed over it. She treated the killing of monsters like an art form, indulging in the violence more than any of the morality. That's why her best friends are vampires and terrorists. Still, every time she thinks she has peace, the inner battle returns. But she finds a way. Every time, she finds away. She lies down, goes to sleep, and remembers that in the morning, everything will be easier.
Relationships: Jackson Rippner/Original Female Character(s), Spike (BtVS)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Smells Like Jack Rippner

Dean and Sam shouted hysterically after Alisha as she sprinted out and lept into the nearest car in the parking lot. Her hands shook as she touched wires together from the floorboard. It was only because they lept almost superhumanly far back from the speeding vehicle that her brothers weren’t flattened. Alisha still carelessly crushed the gas pedal under her black, silver-toed boots, heading straight for Los Angeles. The phone rang in Alisha’s pocket. She exclaimed in excitement before answering Dean’s call.

“What the hell are you doing, Lisha?!” Dean demanded.

“An old friend’s back in LA,” Alisha explained, barely holding herself together, “I promise I’m coming back, just gimme some time!”

“Old friend? You don’t have friends, you have people you used to hang out with, remember? Or, something emo like that.”

Alisha rolled her eyes so hard she could almost see her brain and growled, “It’s mental illness, but it’s not like our family gives a shit about stability.”

“We can get into this later. Just,” Dean paused, “...let us in for once in your damn life.”

With the feeling she hated so much shoving up her throat, she said, “It’s Spike. **The** Spike. Look him up,” and ended the call.

Jackson Rippner, on the other hand, was stressing police on the same road being used by Alisha. He hadn’t been looking for someone swerving and driving in the entirely wrong lane.Thankfully, his car was safe, being provided by “friends” of his. Alisha’s cheap and stolen one, however, was totalled. When Jackson approached the car, he winced.

_“Looks like the damage couldn’t be much worse,”_ he thought, looking at the deep scars that covered and traced every inch of her body, face to ankles.

Then, he noticed she was still breathing and let out a sigh. The crunched door had to be pried open, but Jackson managed. Alisha’s muscle mass took Jackson by surprise as he forced more tension into his knees and carried her into his trunk. As he sat in the front seat of the expensive BMW, he couldn’t help but wonder about the woman in his trunk. Considering he was a former professional killer, well “manager”, this was a rare occurrence. Her scars were simply enough to drive his mind insane with possibilities.

_Maybe she was in a god damned wood chipper accident…Jesus H. Fuck, they're too. clean for that. You know damn well that came from a knife. At least a blade. But, who the hell cou-”_

“You fucking asshole!” a now conscience Alisha shrieked, muffled inside the trunk, “Pull this shit over now and either kill me or meet me, like a civilized fucking human being! Or not! I don’t care! Human, vampire, demon, just be fucking decisive!”

Jacksons brows furrowed as his blue eyes shifted nervously as he loudly asked “Did you just say vampire?”

“Or demon! Whatever! It’s kind of a ‘death to life’ situation! Just let me get to LA, plea…“ Alisha suddenly felt her desperation swell up again.

Jackson touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth thoughtfully before asking, “Ya know who Jackson Rippner is?”

Alisha smirked and chuckled mischievously, “Oh boy, do I. How come?”

Caught slightly off guard by this strange woman’s attraction to a wanted terrorist, Jackson responded, “Well… Today’s your lucky day. Nice to meet ya.”

“Cool, Alisha Winchester! That’s a good start! Just say I need to keep quiet, and I’ll say no problem! Honor among thieves or some shit.”

“Honey, you think you’re bad enough to be on my level of liability? What did you do? Sell some drugs? Do them?”

“That, and…“ Alisha paused to be dramatic, “As much as I will accept a vamp or demon without bringing out the holy water instantly, I won’t hesitate to shove some down throats. Mix some salt in: best fun a hunter can have. I don’t know how many of my early ones have come up.”

“Early ones?”

“Bodies, Rippner!” Alisha cackled.

“Bodies, right, bodies! Gimme a sec… Brace yourself!”

Alisha feld Jackson’s sharp turn to the side of the road slam her against the side of the trunk. Her fists were held in front of her face to protect anything from being slammed other than fingers and knuckles, which were already bloody and bruised from hunting and fighting against both man and wall.

“Fuck, OW!” She exclaimed as she essentially punched herself in the impact.

She rubbed her nose furiously until sunlight poured in behind her. Jackson did try to be gentle lifting her out of the trunk. Alisha forced her way out of his arms, snatching one of Jackson's many blades on the way and slicing the zip-tie around her wrists. Before Jackson could even say a word, his truck was driving off with a storm cloud behind it.

At first, Alisha didn't think much about leaving him in that road. Then, she did. As a fellow fugitive, Alisha remembered the stress of seeing flashing red and blue in the corner of her eye. The churning and bubbling in her stomach would be nearly unbearable when she would find herself behind one-way glass. Drifting the truck, Alisha had a change in heart and kicked the passenger door open.

As Jackson stared blankly, Alisha joked, “Need a lift, babe?”

“There's no way in Hell I am your babe,” Jackson responded under his breath.

“Just get those pretty blues in the car while I check your CDs.”

Jackson Rippner did as he was told and leapt in the car, slightly struggling to reach the height. Alisha laughed as she browsed through Jackson's music.

_Nirvana, Nirvana II, Nirvana: the Return… Jesus, does this guy listen to anything but shitty grunge?_

“Not that I care, I mean I'm not gonna do anything, “ Alisha began, “but, do you have a place in mind to be, or are you just going where the road takes ya?”

Jackson let out an exaggerated laugh, “What, do you think I'd be just ‘going where the road takes me’ the get away from the FBI and whoever else is on my ass?”

Alisha laughed at Jackson's horribly hidden nervousness, “Yeah, I'm sure you didn't make **that** horrible decision. There's a reason you were the whore and not Deadshot, Jack.”

“Okay! First off, I am not a fucking whore-”

Alisha interrupted, “Any unattractive ‘managers’?”

“Maybe there's nobody completely unfuckable, but that doesn't make me a whore! And don't fucking call me Jack!”

“First off, Jack, your fate is in my hands. I'll call you what I damn well please. Second off, you play with people's hearts, have them give you intimate favors, and get paid. Sound familiar? Maybe like a service you've used?”

At this point, Jackson just slouched in his seat out of offense. Also, he really had nothing to add. Except…

“You got a big mouth, killer.”

Alisha grinned wide as possible, teeth showing clearly through full lips. Suddenly, Jackson's pride was silent. All he did was maintain a look that screamed _“what the fuck?”_ His hand snuck towards the handgun he kept under the passenger seat. As he drew the weapon on her, Alisha took the gun and just tossed it out the window. She grumbled as she felt for the joint that was in her pocket. It was crumpled to the point of uselessness.

“Shit,” she hissed, “I know your all white collar and shit, but any chance you smoke?”

“Tobacco or Marijuana?”

“Marijuana,” she drawled out mockingly.

“Depends, are you planning on killing me?” Jackson accused.

“Depends,” Alisha parroted, “Am I getting to kiss Mary Jane before our stop?”

“Alright, give me a sec,” Jackson practically choked on his next words, “Thanks, by the way.”

“Thanks? For what?”

Jackson was about to pass back a sarcastic remark before he looked over at Alisha. She seemed genuinely confused at the idea of gratitude. He reached his hand out to put it on her knee, only to have it twisted 360°. The seering look of fury on her face sent chills up Jackson’s spine.

_“This is it! Escape maximum security just to be put down by some creepy bitch!”_

With Alisha’s face as close to his as it could get, she hissed. “Pull some shit like that again, and it’ll be the last stupid fucking thing you’ll ever do, prick.”

Jackson pulled away and went back to digging up his pot and a pipe, which obviously costed well over $100. His wrist throbbed with pain as he tried to grind, but he was thankful to at least have a wrist after Alisha’s vice-grip released him. He handed the pipe over and Alisha snatched it like an angered crow.

Jackson sat awkwardly before asking, “So, ‘life to death’, huh? What’s that about?”

Judging from the awkward silence, Jackson figured it would be a long drive. He rolled his eyes and sat like an angsty teenager until they got to Angel Investigations.


	2. Swine & Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult

The second Alisha was out of the car, Jackson took the keys and drove away. With a shrug and a flip of her middle finger, Alisha just walked into the giant building. It was still kinda surreal to her. Sure, Angel was a Batman type vigilante, self-righteous and angsty, but she didn't picture him with a bunch of corporate scumbags. Corporate or not, she stormed in with a bang. Well, either way, she was storming inside the building.

“SPIKEY!” Alisha screamed, barging through glass doors, no care at all for the professionals around her. “Where the hell are you?!”

Angel sighed, and approached the shouting woman, grabbing her shoulder.

“Let’s go, it’s a big place,” he guided.

At first, paranoia took over. She was panicking as Angel led her on to his office. She fidgeted in the roll around chair. Eventually, it grew to a bit more of a very underwhelming roller-coaster. Then as she was mid-spin, the chair toppled and a wheel flew to break some miscellaneous breakable something. As she looked for the wheel, she stopped at a picture hidden just out of view.

“Buffy, the good one. Wonder what she’s up to nowadays? She’s probably going on her twenty-whateverth year sober,” she thought, looking down at faded speckles that mingled with her scars.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Spike asked sarcastically from behind her.

She turned on heel and froze. She stared like Spike was God, Sasquatch, and a unicorn all together. Once she snapped out of it, her arms were tightly around him in a friendly hug. Her emotions started spilling out onto his shoulder.

“I was dead, but you were really dead, and, I went to sleep, but nothing got fucking easier about it…” she whispered, trailing off in her crying.

“Yeah, well I'm alive now,” he pushed her away almost to confirm he was really there, “we don't have to worry about that now, right?”

Suddenly she had a vacant expression on her face, raising Spike's concern for her. He repeated himself just in case her mind took her for a moment. She blinked a few times before returning back to reality.

“Easy for you to say,” Alisha grumbled regrettably before apologizing. “I am so damn sorry, I know that isn't true. You just came back. I just-”

“Cut to the chase, Lisha,” Spike snapped, making Alisha cringe at her least favorite nickname, “What happened?”

“Look, a lot happened and it doesn't matter. Like you said, we don't have to worry about it now.”

“Well, you are clearly worrying about it, so don't hold out on me! Normal p-” he stopped himself, “I really hate acting like a bloody shrink, but you know what happens if you hold it in.”

“I piss my pants?” She joked.

“No,” he thought for a moment, “Maybe metaphorically, yes.”

Alisha threw her head up and cackled, “Alright then, Hemingway, I'm going to metaphorically piss my pants if I don't fill you in.”

Spike rolled his eyes, but he laughed a little with her.

“I’ll let you off for now, Raven, just considering…” Spike made a broad gesture with his hands, “everything. You are going to at least make sure I don't need to keep suicide watch again, right?”

“I guess,” she shrugged, feeling for her pills in her jacket, “we have to get out of this place. I'm getting a massive fucking migraine, I'm so damned bored.”

“Well, there's one glaring pr-” Spike started, but was interrupted by chaos in the building.

“Look, you need to calm down, Alisha is not- Hey!” Angel shouted somewhere out of view.

Jackson Rippner stormed through, right past Angel's office.

Leaning back on her heels to try to see the terrorist, she shouted “Marco!”

Then, Jackson spun around, back to the glass office. Spike already had an expression that told Alisha he was doubting her judgment. Still, Alisha smiled at Jackson and waved him over.

Angel intervened, pushing into the room, exclaiming, “Okay, I didn't think I'd need to lay down a 'no terrorists allowed’ rule! What the hell, Alisha?”

“Geez, Angel, don't get your Tampax in a twist,” she retorted, “It's not like he did 9/11!”

“No, he just nearly got an entire bloody family killed!” Spike interjected. “I mean, we've done worse, but we had an excuse, we were monsters! What does he have? He probably just got turned down one too many times!”

“Excuse me?!” Jackson chimed in furiously, “My entire fucking family died when I was ten!”

“I wonder who could have done that!” Spike shot back.

Now, Angel and Alisha shared a look of concern. Alisha saw the look she had always wound up with every time people would say she set the fire back at Kansas on his face. Angel noticed the guilty look, too. Both of them knew Spike damned well enough to know there was only one way this argument would end.

“Stop, now!” Alisha shouted, pushing Spike and standing between the two.

“Stop? This is the last thing your crazy ass needs!” Spike's shot at her made Alisha's lip start curling, “He literally made a career out of emotional manipulation! How is that anything but a big bloody red flag to you?”

“Because I can help!”

“Like that never leads to trouble! Like I didn't end up sewing all this,” he held her wrist up to show the scars, “because someone couldn't handle the fact that she couldn't keep the Slayer herself alive. What's going to happen if he turns and we're all in trouble because of you? I'm not trying to blame-”

Out of nowhere, Alisha threw a punch. She'd do anything to forget the day Spike was speaking about. Buffy died to save the world, but Alisha's head still echoed how she could've helped, how they could've found another way. But, Buffy was still dead. It was the time she felt totally and absolutely hopeless. And that's why now, she was on top of her best friend, shouting everything she could to get back. Spike waited for the right moment to throw his own punch, knowing he was so much stronger.

Jackson suddenly pushed in, gasping, “Jesus, and I'm the abusive asshole here?”

“Rippner,” Angel began, “You stay here. Us three need to talk, uninterrupted.”

In the lab, the tension was still there, but it was fading. Alisha lept over to the examination table and flopped down onto it.

“If we are going to keep him around,” Angel began, “we need something to go off of. It's not like we just save kittens from trees around here.”

“Right,” Alisha huffed thoughtfully, “Well… ya remember how I scared the piss out of both of you?”

Spike laughed, “He's a terrorist. Don't think he's gonna scare that easy.”

“He's a manager, trust me. He's got tough skin, but it's thin as hell.”

Spike tried to engineer another reason against Alisha's plan before giving up and passing it on, “Angel?”

“I think we should try it,” he responded.

“Alright, I guess we're done here! What do I kill?” She cheered,

Jackson seemed uneasy inside the bar while Alisha glanced around at the patrons around her, seeking a target. At first, Jackson bugged her about the public setting and buried his head. Then, she explained it was a demon bar. Really, he just assumed he was in a setting with people as crazy as the woman beside him. Whether that was a good or bad thing was up to fate.

Suddenly, Alisha caught wind of a conversation that boiled her blood: kitten gamblers. She loathed them with a passion, with a special exception for Spike. In the end, well, not so much end, but either way they started working together to get almost the entire litter out. No, not saving kittens from trees. She stood up as one was describing in deep detail how they are better cooked alive.

“Plus, it's a hell of a lot more fun to have them-”

Alisha plopped down in the booth, interrupting the twisted conversation. This was the only time she could get her head straight.

“Who the hell are you?”

She said all the right things, made all the right moves, and Jackson was noticing with an irritated look. As she let out a boisterous giggle at one of the, he assumed, costumed freaks’ sick joke, he ordered an even harder drink. Then, he had a thought.

Seems to have a thing for twisted. How about…

“Hey, can I get a bay breeze?”

Alisha was just about done with the demon group. They teased her about her humanity, prodded about her scars everything that would get under a normal person’s skin. Her? She smiled like it was regular dinner-table talk. Eventually, the demonic group noticed the difference in her and began asking about dead bodies. This was when she found the trouble.

“Practically grew up with them,” she said.

“Lemme guess,” the ringleader began, “Mommy died when you were a kid, so not you hang out with demons.”

“Yeah…” Alisha tried to control her tongue to keep her chances of baiting this guy, “exactly… Gimme a sec.”

She sauntered, bordering on stumbling, back to her spot at the bar. Jackson slid her the sea breeze he had ordered and she guzzled it before ordering whiskey shots. Alisha was paying attention to anything she could that wasn't in her head, which was now burning the same way her house did with her mother inside. A demon in the crowd had skin that resembled that charred form. She turned her head only to see one with a skeletal nose.

Alisha buried her head and asked, “What's the worst body you've seen, Rippner?”

“The worst… I've seen a lot of fucked up shit, that's kinda hard,” Alisha cocked a furry black brow, “After this one time, I came across a dude in the wreckage, ya know after the job was done. Crushed by a building, half a skull, and impaled, but we still had to get someone to shoot the fucker.”

Alisha threw back a shot and then hummed, “Interesting. Ever see someone burn?”

“Oh, yeah! I did have to handle disp-”

She barked, “No, not a burning body. I see that shit every day! No, a human being fucking burning alive, to the bone! How about your mom, huh, you have to stick around for that? Or did you just get to run, like everyone else? You fight or flight?!”

Jackson held a look of shock and disgusted as he shot back, “What the fuck? I'm not your therapist! Don't come interrogating me about my past, because I've already done five years of that shit!” 

“Bitch, I get off on that shit!”

“Okay,” Jackson breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I've been to juvie, jail, and maximum security. How are you the fucked up one?”

“I thought I just told you, Jesus!”

“Yeah, and that's…” Jackson blinked to try to find the right word, “horrible, I'll even say that. You can't be the only one and I don't see a lot like you around.”

“Yeah, I'm sure the others just got ten cents from the 'Mommy’s on Fire and my Family Sucks’ fund, right? Trust me, others as screwed in the head as me exist.”

“Huh. I thought you did some heroic demon hunting or something,” he replied sarcastically.

“No. Dahmer, Btk, maybe even fucking Columbine, I'm in that caliber,” she began, “Don't call me a god damned hero because I do it to the right things.”

“Hey,” someone said behind her.

“Oh. Hey, babe,” Alisha winked at the demon ringleader, hoping he hadn’t heard too much.

“Uh, hey, you coming back?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I just said that so that, maybe, you'd come ask. I just don't wanna make the pack jealous.”

“Right, yeah. I thought maybe I chased you off asking about your mom. It's just like pulling on your pigtails, don't worry,” he justified.

“Hey, don't worry about it. I may actually be pushing boundaries too, cause I was just talking to my male friend here to see if we could share. Can we?” She batted her eyelashes, causing Jackson to notice the stark change in her character more than the fact that he was being pulled into this trap.

“I'm not picky, but I'm actually not the driver here.”

“Well, my place is pretty nice,” Alisha offered.

Jackson tugged her arm harshly and hissed, “We are not using my truck for this!”

“You’re going to have to get rid of it anyway, considering your on the run, again.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Oh, please,” Alisha rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, “I know the on-the-run run when I see it. I’ve done it, let’s see…” she began pretending to count on her fingers.

“Alright, I get it. You’re a badass. Moving on…”

Alisha smirked, looking up from her fingers, “So, let’s go. Just gimme a little trust.” With a nod of Jackson’s head, she turned back to the demon and said, “I think we’ve come to a decision.”

“I see you have, badass,” he replied joking, obviously skeptical.

Then, it wasn't but two steps out of the building before she knocked the demon over its wrinkled head. It fell down, nearly cracking the asphalt. Alisha drug the body no slower than most walking speeds, but Jackson began lifting the other side anyway. Once he felt the flesh of this creature, he stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled experimentally. His stomach churned as he realized the skin felt far too realistic beneath his fingers. His widened, baby blue eyes turned to Alisha.

“Fuck, how am I going to defend myself?” he thought, realizing he didn't have a weapon.

“Ya gonna help me or not?” She nagged.

Jackson reverted back to his criminal mindset and thought, “Just do what she says and say nothing.”

So, they. began loading the unconscious thing into Jackson's truck. Alisha watched around them for witnesses, suddenly dropping her end. Jackson struggled to load the rest on his own. Alisha pulled out a tarp to cover the bed of the truck with, so the demon wasn’t just on display. It was lined with silver, making it at least painful to most demons. She knew enough about this one to know it would work. She took inventory of each leather holster on every limb and anywhere else she could find. With all weapons in place, accounting for her bag in the front of the truck, she entered the passenger side. The only problem was, Jackson lept in the driver’s seat first and took a twisted blade from her bag.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” he screamed, hands shaking.

“I told you. Demons exist, but it ain’t that bad. You got sickos like me to protect you, now let’s get moving before the asshole starts squirming.”

“No, I can’t trust you. How do I know you won’t take this demon thing to the humans that have it co-” he stopped, realizing what was going to come from his mouth.

You don’t have this coming, Jack. Maybe you need a knee to the balls or a punch in the grill,” the perverted side of her mind began running, “Maybe a spanking. You don’t deserve torture, though. Not like this.”

“Ah, good to know I’m only going to be assaulted here. Probably sexually,” he accused.

Alisha pursed her lips, “I know what it’s like. I say shit, but I’d never do anything.”

With a steady minute of deep eye contact, Jackson decided to trust this woman to lead him. He at least had the comfort of knowing that she had defended him at Angel investigations. That’s when his mind started trailing off.

“So… the guys back there, what’s up with them?” he curiously asked.

“Demons. They do poker but with a litter of kittens instead of money.”

“Oh, no,” he laughed, “I mean the asshole and the Brit?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Glad you agree on the Angel tip. That’s the asshole’s name. Don’t listen to his self-righteous bs. He was the worst of the worst way back when. Vampire I mean. Spike’s pretty bad too, the Brit. But, he owns it, ya know. He just says ‘god damned it, I guess I’ll do it’ when Angel’s doing his best to grunt and flex his muscles to make it look impressive. They usually don’t mix like this, though. It tends to be a dick measuring contest,” she giggled between her teeth, “but I’m pretty sure I know who’d win.”

“Jesus, does everything have to be a sexual innuendo with you?” Jackson asked, rolling his eyes.

“How’d you know it has anything to do with that? I could just be saying I like Spike more,” she suggested.

“On the contrary,” Alisha nearly groaned at this phrase, “I’m straight as an arrow and I’ll even admit I’d give him a shot.”

“Straight as an arrow? As opposed to your fucking eyebrows,” she shot back.

“Excuse me? I have a right to be a well groomed-” he felt a jolt against his back.

“Shit,” Alisha hissed, digging through her bag, “Take this in case he breaks through!”

Jackson attempted to both control the large vehicle in the thinning traffic and take the knife in Alisha’s hand, shouting, “Breaks through?!”

“Yeah, this is an Ulgron demon, kinda like an Orc. Strong and stupid as hell.”

The truck spun dramatically before actually tipping on its side, pushing Jackson right on top of Alisha and the heavy bag of weapons barely missing both heads.

“Good thing it was shut!” Alisha commented, pushing out from under Jackson’s lighter form.

She threw her bag over her shoulder so she could climb out of the large vehicle. A little after, Jackson pushed himself up to try and pull himself out. Realizing he was not nearly as agile as Alisha, he called out for her sheepishly.

“One minute!” she shouted, wrestling open the tarp like a tuna net.

She also prepared the syringe of sedative that Angel had loaned to her. The demon emerged with a clumsy flail of his fist. It knocked the wind out of Alisha for a moment, causing her to fall down. Her skull ringed when it hit the rocky, dirt ground. When her vision stopped shaking, she forced herself up and pulled a jagged looking knife from her thigh. It skewered the Ulgron’s shoulder, giving her the opportunity to inject him with the sedative. Jackson felt a sense of eerie familiarity once he saw the warehouse they were approaching. Alisha felt a thrill, like drinking five energy drinks at once. She smiled when she saw there was an entrance large enough for the truck. She dropped the limp body and drug Jackson to help her lift the truck. They barely got it up, but they still managed to roll it into the warehouse. She pulled a cd from her bag titled “Confessions of a Knife” and handed it to Jackson.

“Crank it up!” she guffawed.

He did as he was told while Alisha strung up their captive to the wall. She made sure each restraint was tight and burning on his limbs. Moving on to the torture instruments, she pulled them out and began sorting the knives from shortest to longest, from straightest to most twisted, sharp to jagged, etc. Then, she laid out the liquids in their labeled bottles. Finally, she laid out the unique ones, most of which she made herself. She smiled proudly over the spread as the first song came to an end. She pulled out a crowbar lined with silver on the bottom and weighed it in her hands. Then, she moved onto a knife twisted into a nearly nonsensical form. She settled on mixing the colloidal silver with her holy water and splashed it carelessly onto the unconscious demon. He awoke with a howl, tiny holes opening as though he’d been splashed with battery acid.

“Now it’s time for some fun,” rasped, returning to the spread of weapons.

Jackson sat back and watched as she went on. The music echoed “Christain, Zombie, Vampire!” against industrial noise adding to his unease. His brows furrowed when she pulled that knife she had twisted herself and brought it over to the demon. He was only able to watch for a second as she guided the blade to an eye. Meanwhile, Alisha was having the time of her life, taking in all of his pain.

“Those kittens knew fucking nothing about the world, and you put them through more. Man up!” she taunted.

It wasn’t until half an hour past the end of the cd that the screams and laughs stopped and Jackson could look again. He felt queasy when he saw the mangled corpse. His legs limped like spaghetti noodle out of the barn. He couldn’t help but notice the rancid smell of the demon’s blood that even wafted outside of the barn as he lurched over there.

“Hey, wanna help me out?!” Alisha requested.

“No, I don’t!” Jackson gasped.

“Thought you saw a dude with half a skull?” She pushed.

“I was exaggerating! I thought it was just some twisted fucking contest! I didn’t think…” he began gagging again.

“Alright, sweetie, I got it. At least start on the hole for me, make yourself useful.”

Once the body was dumped in the large hole, there was still something Alisha couldn’t do. She handed her book of matches to Jackson. At first, he pushed it away. Then, he noticed the wetness in her eyes and took them, tossing one into the gasoline-soaked grave. She sat and rolled a joint until it was well burned through and they could put the dirt back in its place. Jackson handed the keys to Alisha so his mind could process the events of the night.


	3. With a Little Help from my Friends

Sam and Dean pulled up right behind Jackson and Alisha. Suddenly, her hands were shaking and sweaty on the wheel. Dean stepped out of the impala and Sam followed. Both of them waited while staring at her impatiently. Then, Dean rolled his eyes and began approaching their vehicle. Alisha quickly shut the truck off and lept out. Once Dean noticed Jackson in the passenger seat, he was no happier than Spike had been.

“That’s just great!” Dean shouted, “Fucking fantastic! Not only are you chilling around with one of the worst bloodsuckers of all time, but you picked up-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm savin’ the unsavable, picking up a terrorist. And Spike, he does have a fucking name,” Dean rolled his eyes, “died as a part pf a prophecy to save the damned world. He has a soul. I have less of a soul than him.” she argued.

“Alisha,” Sam began, “You can't just brush off harboring a fugitive,” he reconsidered his words when Alisha raised a brow, “a real fugitive. I mean, he's helped in the deaths of how many people?”  
“It doesn't matter because he helped, he didn't do it. I've done worse.”

“You haven't offed an actual person, right?” Dean shot back. Alisha fell silent with brown eyes that seemed to have no shine whatsoever, causing Dean to awkwardly half-change the subject and say, “We’ll all talk later,” shoving into the massive building.

As much as Alisha was not ashamed of her past, she was reaching territory that she was horrified of showing to her brothers. She knew that sooner or later it would come: she would have to revisit the churning in her stomach as she lost trust for her client in that hotel room How her fears were proven when the chubby, much older man refused to leave. She didn't even bother pulling the gun out of the man’s head before hurrying to call Spike.

In the present, she was on the phone, trying to give Dean less time to build up steam. Her finger tapped anxiously on the black flip phone. Dean was leaning against a wall impatiently. Then, he noticed Harmony walking through and smirked.

“Can ya not?” she sneered.

Alisha snickered back, “Oh, you finally found some standards.”

“Yeah, and I stop at hunters who can’t even handle their crazy, human sister, let alone us vampires. I’ve had Spike, and he’s probably better.”

“Speaking of Spike,” Sam interrupted, not letting Dean give his comeback, “Any idea where we can find him?”

“Not a clue,” she said, hurrying to get away from any further questioning.

Alisha, trying to resist the urge to crush her phone in her hands, began furiously texting, “My brothers are here. The longer you’re not here, the closer they get to hunting instead of looking. Get ahold of me ASAP.”  
“What, are you some kind of monster Nazis?” Jack asked over her shoulder.

“I think you saw enough to get the gist,” she said curtly, slamming the phone shut so hard the screen nearly broke.

Jackson clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and responded, “Yeah, but you also just said you’ve killed someone before.”

Alisha flashed a finger over her lips, which Jackson thought was an attempt at humor, but then she looked quickly at Dean and Sam. Neither of them seemed to notice the conversation. She stepped away to mutter something to Dean while making smoking motions with her fingers. Jackson hissed when she began dragging him, then his heart began racing. As soon as they were out the door, he broke away and made a run for nothing.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, sprinting behind and catching up fairly quickly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a police officer behind Jackson’s truck, pulling out his radio. She used her uneven, bust length hair to hide her own face. Then, she endured Jackson’s unbelievably sweaty palms and shoved him into the nearest ally. Her hand covered his mouth until the sound of the officer’s footsteps sped past the entrance. She let Jackson go while he huffed.

“Not much of a stamina, eh Rippner?” she teased.  
Jackson shook his head in denial, “You just didn’t look that strong-”

“Of course, I’m a woman, go on.”

“And I really fucking value my life, so of course I was going to run like fucking crazy.”

“Well, you were about to run like fucking crazy into a damned cop, you retard. Wanna hear about what happened with me until it’s clear?”

Jackson pulled out a cigarette and waved her on as he put it in his mouth, “your turn to go on.”

Both Alisha and the client were silent when they entered the cheap room. She didn’t have any qualifications for jobs that would give her enough time to hunt, but her mind couldn’t give up the hunting. So, she was reduced to this; meeting strange men whose names she had usually forgotten by now. This one, she didn’t. Ever since he’d asked for her, she’d noticed something off. It wasn’t a supernatural kind of “off” where a simple splash of holy water or something of the like would solve everything. Still, she went through with it. Whether it was intentional with the plan of violence or simply out of apathy, even she wasn’t entirely sure. Her phone rang inside her tiny shorts she had stolen from Dawn, which honestly fit too well on her taller body for her to be healthy.

“I need to take this, can you leave for a sec?” she requested.

The man laughed at her. She turned and  
repeated herself with a glare. He stood, which led her to think he would listen. Her phone was yanked from her hands. Her fogged system tried to interpret what was happening as she felt the hard and lumpy bed under her. The man trapped her wrist and pulled out a handgun. Even though Alisha expected this would happen some time, she was still flooded with emotions.

“This is why I left you,” her father said, squatted right beside her face, “We always knew you’d end up here. Sam has no one worth looking up to. You’re too Damned rough for Dean and I to shove around anymore. What are you even doing in this family?”

With a clenched jaw, she lashed out. The gun was set down right beside her, but his hands were still on her wrists. She twisted them to the point that it burned, breaking his fingers away. The man was suddenly promising to let her keep the money while he ran, but she knew what that meant. He’d find another. Probably, it would be a friend of hers whom she never expected to keep, but protected with every ability she had. She fully had the ability to twist over like a cobra and bring the man’s gun down over and over. The noise was less like a watermelon, as Alisha had expected, and was more like cement; incredibly brittle cement. Cement that bled and struggled. Now, Buffy gagged in the corner.

“Jesus Christ,” she sighed, “Why are you so… wrong?”  
Alisha gave one last blow that cracked the handle of the gun entirely into the man’s skull before whispering, “No, don’t do this to me.”

“Alright, then,” now it was Spike, “I can get behind this, you know that. I only bothered picking you up like roadkill because I pitied you, but this is interesting.”

Alisha kept her eyes on the hallucination. He shook his head as she dialed. Her fingers drummed a Tool song as she waited. Then, she looked at herself in the mirror and was tempted to hang up. She stared at the phone, the name, and sat down with tears in her eyes. After she’d made up appearances so well, she was living in her own space rather than living off of other people’s money and housing. Now, she’d have to tell him why. She put the phone back to her ear. Nothing happened.

“You are not like this anymore,” she growled, leaving for Sunnydale high school.

She cut the cords to the security cameras from the entrance to the end of the corridor before the basement. Her heart nearly jumped to her throat when she first saw movement in the basement as it was much larger than any rat. Then, her heart plummeted down to her toes. It was Spike, with hair that was practically halfway brunette and entirely ungroomed. She knew that look. Her worst fear came true as she realized that she was the last thing he needed at the moment. She turned to leave morosely. She stopped once she could feel him staring at her.

“Yes, I’m a whore,” she sighed, “I sell myself so I don’t have to live off of other people… and it’s led me to make a body, a human one” she struggled to form words in her sore throat, “I made a really fucking big mistake.”

She stood there anticipating his answer, only to hear a reassuring, “Join the club.” Alisha smirked and raised a brow, so he clarified, “The big mistake, not the whoring part.”

“I’d say you give enough away for free,” Alisha joked.

“Shut up and get down here so I can see what I can do with your mistake,” Spike said, forcing a smile.

“You don't have to,” Alisha commented.

“No, but my life’s pretty much at rock bottom already.”

“Need a pick ax?” she said lightheartedly.

Spike seemed focused elsewhere. Alisha didn’t want to interrupt because, from her experience, it was better to just let things play out. After all, she had bothered him with enough of her own meltdowns. What was one moment of distraction? When he looked a little too distressed about what he was seeing, she piped up.

“I’m here,” with her most comforting smile, although she had smeared blood across her face at some point in the chaos.

Spike snapped back to Alisha and walked over to her. He grabbed her arms, which only had some width due to her muscle mass, and shook her harshly. Her hand reached for the knife tucked into her waistband. Spike shook his head and turned around frantically. He shoved at something only to stumble forward stupidly. Alisha laughed a little.  
“You’re right on that one,” Spike mumbled to someone before turning back to Alisha, “So, what are we doing with king size?”

“Uhhh,” Alisha began, “we are burying him. I sure as fuck can’t burn him. It doesn’t look like you’re much better.”

“What do you mean by that?” Spike asked, concerned.

“The fuck you mean, what do I mean? Have you seen yourself-”

“No, I definitely get that part. No burning tonight. You said you couldn't do it like it's worse for some reason.”

“It’s just,” Alisha hid her mouth to muffle the last words, “the heroin.”

Spike barked, “What?” somewhere between disgust and horror.

“The heroin!” she shouted back, “I’ve been hallucinating like fucking crazy, and I've been seeing my mom. Not just her, but, pretty much everyone I know. She's just the worst.”

Spike was at a loss for words until he finally decided, “We’ll talk about this, all of this, after we get rid of your mess. I already have a hole going, so you can just toss him in with the others.”

“Really? Taking the fall for me? How fucking low is your self worth right now?”

“Must be low,” Spike took off his shirt to reveal a massive wound on his chest, before wrapping it around the man’s bleeding head. “Go check if we have a way out.”

Alisha's mouth, which was painted with the cheapest red lipstick, hung open in shock and sorrow. Completely ignorant of Spike’s personal space, she practically shoved into his chest to look at the crude cuts. He allowed her to prod until she actually pulled a part open enough to see a rib. Spike hissed and yanked Alisha's wrists back.

“Why’d you do it?” Alisha asked sadly.

“It’s complicated,” he started. “I got my soul back, I suppose we should start there.”

“Jesus fucking H Christ, Spike,” Alisha gasped in awe. “I knew you were into Buffy and everything, but you really broke the laws of supernature for her?”

“You know I'm bloody desperate when it comes to women. Well, ever since then, I've had to stay here for the safety of everyone. I thought a soul would stop that,” he ran his hands over his face in frustration, “but apparently that's not the way this works. I should've known, having you as a friend. It just makes what I do feel like Hell.” Alisha noticed he was getting emotional, causing her to cock her head in concern, “I tried to just get rid of the bloody thing, since it’s so useless to me anyway. As you can see, I’m not as brave as you.”

A glare crossed over Alisha's face, “Brave as me?” She dropped the body carelessly and threw a punch that caused Spike to stumble to the dirty, black floor, “Fucking brave like me? This is just me trying to get the shit in my head anywhere but there. Me slicing myself like deli meat is anything but brave, you dumbass! Yeah, you killed some bitches. I’m still willing to bet I’ve been worse with a soul than you are without. Just grin and fucking bear it! That’s all I’ve done and I coulda sold mine off a long time ago! I tried to kill myself, and now fucking look at me!” Now, both her and Spike were just about at the same point of tears, “I’ve been destroyed in every way but the way I actually wanted. If I lose you too, I won’t survive. Not to sound like an abusive girlfriend, but I can't keep going through this brutalistic shit, Spike.”

Alisha was patient while Spike took everything in. He stared into space, still sitting against the basement wall. Eventually, he just shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off. He picked up the body Alisha had dropped and threw it over his shoulder and started leaving the basement.

“Some response would be nice!” Alisha announced.

Spike stopped and sighed, “You’re right. If you did something like this, I’d be bloody mad as hell at you. Let’s just take care of this for now, alright?”

“Yeah, after we make sure there's no guards or anything. Just seems like the best way to go, but you're free to spend an eternity in prison. You’re pick,” Alisha suggested.

“Again, probably right. You go. You seem to have a better handle on reality than I do, for once,” Spike instructed.

Alisha nodded and forced her way up the stairs past Spike. The blood on her clothes, hands, and face didn't concern her. It was Sunnydale after all. All she’d have to do is whisper “vampire” and people would just ask her to be quiet. As she wandered through the halls, she thought about taking a detour to the girls’ locker room for a shower. Then, she remembered how grisley the disposal process is and decided it would be pointless. The halls were dead silent. She stopped to break open a storage closet and grab a shovel before returning to the basement.

“It’s cool,” she told Spike, who turned abruptly turned from another conversation with someone she couldn’t see, “Nobody but you, me, and a corpse.”  
Spike hauled the body as quickly as possible out of the store while Alisha rushed ahead to hijack a car across the street. She popped the trunk while she was on the floor. The car rattled once Spike dropped the dead body into the trunk and slammed it. The car sparked to life, so she scrambled up to rev the car and keep it from idling. Spike barely shut the passenger door before Alisha jerked the steering wheel loose.

“Where’s this hole of yours at?” Alisha asked.

She followed Spike’s directions to pretty much nowhere. Alisha thought it was better than trying to get rid of a body by throwing it in the river. Partway through, she wished she'd taken the time to find another shovel so Spike could dig too. Well, either way, she was digging while Spike rambled to no one. She got deep enough to find one of the women Spike had killed and shuttered.

“You know you're a shit cleaner, Spike,” she coughed out.

“Yeah, well I can’t do a bloody thing about it right now, can I?” Spike challenged.

“Not you,” she held out her hand, “Gimme a knife.”

“This is all I got,” Spike responded, slapping a small pocket knife into her hand.

Analyzing the blade, she sighed and shook her head. With all bodies uncovered, she went to work. The bloody scene was only lit by the moon, but it shaded the squirting blood darkly. The sound of snapping bones and tearing muscle went on for what seemed like forever. Strangely enough, it was the vampire on the verge of insanity who was most disturbed by the scene.

“Believe it or not, neither of us were any fucking crazier that night,” Alisha, finishing her story to Jackson, laughed. “Something literally called the First Evil was playing mind games. Tripped me the hell out at first, ‘cause I thought I had it all figured out. Turns out I was wrong.”

Jackson was in a daze and slack-jawed at what Alisha had just described. He thought about the families who’d died only because of his actions and it made Alisha's confession all the more chilling to him. Alisha was still mostly straight-faced, though some moisture was collected on her cheeks and in her eyes.

“You’ve killed an actual human? Bashed his fucking brains in?” Jackson asked harshly, though the tone was not intentional.

“Right the fuck in,” she said, getting ready to leave the ally.

“Wait, I don’t get to ask anything else?” he asked after her.

“The sooner we can get back to safety with my brothers, the sooner we can sit and do a Q&A session.” Alisha turned the conversation around by asking, “I don't fucking ask about your jobs, do I? How about your parents, huh?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you psychopath,” he gasped in disgust.

“Fucking really, Jackass?” Alisha hissed, “I answer your first really damn personal question, now you’re unhappy with the answer when yours wouldn’t be any fucking better and you’re asking even more personal questions! I ask one and,” Alisha gave a dramatic gasp, “I’m just the fucking devil!”

Jackson was about to give another argument when he noticed movement in the corner of his eye, rushing to say, “You know what, you are absolutely right, we’re wasting time bullshitting like this. We should start moving back-”

“Fuck you!” Alisha growled back shrilly, “You want you wanna stick around and bullsh-”

Once the officer was dangerously close, Jackson shoved Alisha against a wall. He knew he was taking a gamble, and failed spectacularly. Even when she realized exactly what was happening and why, she punched him straight in the mouth. It was hard enough for his teeth to break the skin of his lip, but not enough to actually break any of his teeth.

“If you would’ve given me warning, a; I wouldn't be so motherfucking freaked out;” this time, she did the shoving to deeper in the alley, behind a trash bin, “and b; we'd get started sooner.”

She wiped the blood on Jackson's lips with her fingers before putting them in her mouth. Jackson was admittedly a little repulsed by this act, but he decided to go with it. He wasn’t going to get hurt any worse by what she was doing at that moment.  
“This is a whole fucking new low,” he thought, pressed against the wall.

Alisha was honestly not entirely sure why she was pushing this. Well, she knew damned well it was the piercing blue eyes, and his cheekbones. She had the eyes and the orientation to see why. Just, something told her she was being shallow. It told her she should find what else was drawing her in before she makes a mistake.

“It’s one of those fucking pills,” she thought, “Making me paranoid. I’ll drop it as soon as I find the bitch.”  
From there, she pushed everything else aside.

Although her one hand was tightly grasping Jackson's shoulder in and the other played in his brown, traditional length hair, his hands were flat at the wall. He finally touched her hip covered by her black tank, but couldn't help but notice the creases indicating more scars underneath. He kept his touches as light as possible.  
When they were done, Alisha lowered her legs to the floor. She pulled her black, faded jeans as tight around her waist as possible. They were ill-fitted, so they still sagged a bit under the hem of her top. Jackson flashed a frat-boy grin before hustling beside Alisha. Sam and Dean were waiting outside the Wolfram and Hart building.

“C’mon, we've got a lot to talk about!” Dean called to them.

When Alisha stopped, Sam approached her delicately and said, “Don’t worry. We're never going to leave you behind like that.” He appeared unsettled by something as he emphasized, “Ever.”  
Alisha nodded and made her way to the impala in confusion. The black car seemed to create a Chernobyl-esque irradiation of stress. Alisha even swore she saw a pigeon crash into traffic and wondered if it was feeling this. The broken down nuclear plant of a family twitched and fidgeted awkwardly as all doors were shut. Jackson felt bombarded with surprises since he’d first seen Alisha, so he really didn't have much reaction left in him.

To kick off the end of the silence, Dean said, “Alisha… Spike told us everything.”

“Everything?” Alisha questioned, “What the Hell do you mean everything?”

“I mean I know you’ve killed,” her older brother said sharply. “You’ve killed a human, but the reasons, circumstances… just all the excuses and pity points you can get- you’ve got ‘em.”

Alisha took in a deep breath, “Go on.”

“Sam, you wanna take the rest of this?” Dean offered. “I feel like I’ve butchered the ‘be delicate’ part of this.”

“To be fair, I did brutally murder a guy,” Alisha announced.

“But, you had reasons,” Sam explained. “Maybe, yours are better than Jack’s-”

“It’s Jackson, buddy!” Jackson corrected.

“We’re really concerned with a Hell of a lot more than your name. Watch it, Rippner,” Dean barked back.

Then, Sam continued, “Definitely, your reasons are better. Either way, you both have your reasons. You think you can save him, keep him hidded, you do that. But, it’s on you. You save him, you hide him.”

“Interesting,” the Winchester sister said in a distracted tone, “Thanks.”

Both of the brothers’ faces lightened before Sam responded, “No problem. Wanna say ‘bye’ to Spike before we go?”

“Sure.”

With that, Alisha made an exit from the Impala back to the building. Spike was still standing in the lobby, where Sam and Dean had left him. He hadn’t quite had the time to notice her back before she hugged him with a running, jumping start.

“We gotta go,” she informed him, “My people, I mean. We’ve got a whole apocalypse thing to deal with anyways, and I think that goes for the whole.”

“Yeah, your brothers told me. They weren't too friendly about it either.”

“Shit,” she muttered, realizing she had neglected to share that massive change in her life, “I’m really sorry. I was just so fucking happy that you were back, but my brothers were on my ass and they’re assholes who have no sense of stopping to enjoy when things actually go our way, so-”

“So, you need to stop now before you overdo your apology. I think I need to rip this bloody bandaid off now,” Spike forewarned.

“How bloody?”

“Spike!” Dean barked, “No.”

Sam agreed, saying, “It’s not worth it, Alisha. Just let everything be okay and let’s go.”

“Nothing’s okay for me,” Alisha told Sam and Dean, “ever. I lost him once, he pretty much burned to death to, I can take it. Now…” she turned to Spike, “speak!”

“Okay…” and Spike began explaining, “there’s another prophecy.”

As Spike explained the situation, Alisha was surprisingly calm, inside and out. To her comfort, she was right. This was much better than the last prophecy, which required someone (Spike) to die. As much as Alisha hated Angel’s guts, putting her feelings on display freely, she sure as fuck didn't wish death on him any more than she did on Spike. The “champion”, though she hated the word, would live on as a human… while the world ends. No harm or foul needed.

“So, basically I gotta worry about everything I was originally worried about,” Alisha concluded, “and you and Angel going at each other's throats and trying to fucking kill each other.”

Spike chuckled at how she seemed to process this like it was old news, “Yeah, that’s pretty much the gist.”

“So, nothing new except you’re back.” As Spike shrugged in agreement, Alisha told her brothers, “See? I didn't slit my motherfucking wrists and throat. I know it’s a shock that I’m an adult who’s been insane most of my damned life and can figure out when my brain’s being an asshole.”

Alisha turned and gave Spike one last squeeze of gratitude for his existence before pushing past Sam and Dean triumphantly. The brothers waved awkwardly before moving behind their sister. Jackson moved suddenly from fidgeting to staring at the trio from the Impala impatiently.

“So, we got a new guy,” Dean announced, “Did you hunt with him or just reenact Hostel?”

“Nah, I scared him shitless. We didn't do it by the book.”

“You didn't do it by the book,” Jackson corrected adamantly.

“Damn, that bad?” Dean asked Jackson.

Jackson nodded. They had brought up the start of the worst thing they could know about Alisha, according to her. However, from their lack of care and abundance of understanding, she knew Spike had kept her secret. When she told Jackson about hiding that body with the vampire, she left out one detail. In her rant about Spike’s self injury and self loathing, she had broken down and told him how she surrendered half of her soul to the First, killing her humanity forever, making her a glorified serial killer.


	4. Phantom Pains (Smut, Bonus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I ship Alisha and Spike and I am venting through this mini-chapter. It is smut, so feel free to skip. Nothing is added to the story in this chapter.  
> Title inspired by Nicole Dollanganger song

Alisha's eyes twitched as she felt the bottom of her bed shift. One hand slowly reached to the knife under her pillow until she felt someone else's stop it. She nearly shot up to attack the stranger. Just as her eyes opened, she realized the stranger was not a stranger at all. Her head leaned back to view the cracked concrete ceiling, comforted with the knowledge that it was just her favorite vampire under the covers. The raven-haired woman bit her lip and smirked.

"Hey there, Spike," she giggled lazily, running some fingers through his platinum blonde hair.

He just chuckled with her plain cotton panties between his teeth. His grip on her wrist loosened just to caress the rest of her skin, letting his digits trace the lines of her deep scars. The tissue stung slightly at the direct contact, but Alisha didn't mind. She always believed the line between pain and pleasure was thin. Because of this, her hand moved to stroke the top of Spike's hand in agreement with his gesture. Then, her back turned to a high arch into Spike's mouth. Her gentle touch became aggressive tearing at the vampire's hair enough to cause him to hiss in pain. The sensation of Spike's breath caused Alisha to groan. She noticed the strength she was using with the hand in Spike's hair and pulled it away only for him to yank it back to the same position.

"You know i don't mind the pain, Raven," Spike hummed.

Alisha laughed, "You've always been a fucking bitch," before letting out an ecstatic squeal.

Her knuckles turned white as Spike's tongue barely grazed the spot which nearly sent her into an immediate orgasm. Alisha swore she could physically beat Spike for pulling away soon after.

"What the fuck?" she grunted in frustration. 

Spike made a shushing noise before slithering up to came face-to-face with the hunter underneath him. Alisha let out a hum of understanding when he moved his lips to the soft crook of her neck. She whispered somethings between threats and pleas to rush him as Spike opened his jeans. Alisha's nails dug deeper the closer Spike's hips pressed to hers. Eventually, her claws created small, crescent-like wounds. With one particularly powerful thrust, Alisha took hold of Spike's bicep to flip him to his back so that she was straddling him. There was barely a pause between the two positions when Alisha began rocking her hips at a harsh pace. The only slowing point was when she tore off her tank top. Once the shirt had landed on the dresser against the other wall of the motel room, the metal bed continued squeaking. Spike was pleased to explore the new territory, running his hands over her hips and pushing her back a little so he could sit up. The hunter felt her climax building as Spike ran his fingers across the back of her neck and through her long black hair.

As soon as the moment as finished, Alisha woke up in the Impala. Jackson's arm was wrapped taught around her shoulder, so she looked over at him. Her head just went limp against his shoulder as she continued gazing at his sleeping form. A hand reached up to brush Jackson’s brown locks behind his ear and Alisha smiled forlornly. Her eyes drifted close as she fell back unconscious.

 _"Oh well,"_ she sighed internally, _"At least Jack's actually fucking obtainable."_


	5. Pardon Me

After a long sleep for the quartet, it was business as usual. They took the quick route of sleeping in the impala with all faces covered. The lack of face cleaning required for those on the floor made them grateful for how meticulous Dean was about the car. Sam sat up, massaging his aching joints. Dean wriggled his stiffness away. The brothers looked back to see their sister nestling into Jackson on the leather seat. They looked at each other with confusion.

"Did you know they hooked up?" Dean asked, prompting Sam to shake his head. "Alright, get up you two. We slept half the day away and don't have a case."

The only one not reading the newspaper like a middle-aged man at breakfast was Jackson, who was, quite frankly confused. Dean was really just looking at the funny pages, not so subtly chuckling.

Here goes the road so far on Jackson's end: Demons and monsters are real. They can be really good or really horrible, but that's only from the perspective of the borderline horrible woman beside him (no pun intended). That same woman has actually, physically killed in far worse ways that Jackson could ever dream up. Not only is Alisha his only hope to hide from everybody out to get him, it seemed apparent to him that she was more than a little attracted. This assumption was pushed on by Alisha's long, boney legs slowly extending to Jackson's side of the car.

"Looks like we got a vam-" Sam stopped reading, "Not such a good idea...one sec."

"Nevada!" Alisha announced, "Bodies sucked tight like vacuum bags, looks like serial killings, awesome."

"Check it out?" the youngest male Winchester confirmed.

"Why not. Call it a first date?" Alisha joked to Jackson, playfully cuddling him.

He shoved her away playfully before pulling her back, to the other boys' dismay. She sighed, pressing herself so close to Jackson that his cheek was practically forced to the window of the car. Although Alisha was being fairly affectionate, he could tell, he couldn't help but notice the possessiveness of her embrace. Doubt arose in his mind when he remembered how he was treated during their first encounter. His wrist was just starting to regain flexibility from being twisted by her.

"Uh, can I ask something personal?" Alisha hummed for him to continue, "Is there something wrong with you?"

Her brows furrowed before she answered, "We can talk about that as soon as you tell me your fucked up baggage. Got it, boy?"

"So, yes."

Sam snapped, "Why don't we stick to the thing that is actually doing damage right now?"

"Fine,what is doing the damage right now?" Jackson challenged.

"Look, we are saving your ass by letting you stick around. We shouldn't even be doing it!" Sam scolded. "If you're going to stay, you need to work with us. We need to do research to figure that out. That's why we're going to find a motel room so you two can look in the books and online, while we talk to the witnesses."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Alisha interrupted, "Why are we still going to a motel with a 'm'? There should be a capital H along with some big name behind it, if we have this fuck working for us!" she said, referring to Jackson.

"I have nothing to offer. In the good ol' days, we could've gone over to the Sunnyside, but now I'll be lucky to die first walking into that place."

"Well, that's gonna be a problem," Sam warned. "That's exactly where all the deaths are happening."

"Don't worry about it, hun," Alisha comforted, "People think we're crazy at first, then they wanna give us their souls and the blood of their unborn grandchildren. In other words, the most likely thing to come out of this is actually really fuckin' good. That's coming from a pro pessimist."

"Fine," Jackson huffed, "but maybe we should make a stop first."

"I figured. I didn't see you bring a lot with you, and I doubt you thought you'd need a suit again," Dean commented.

"Not just for me," Jackson clarified. "I know you guys don't get a whole lot."

"I think you mean you know Alisha doesn't have a lot," Dean laughed. "Spoiling her is a hell of a lot better than nailing her in some random alley in L.A.! Speaking of which, you two let us know if you get any weird blisters or rashes, will ya? We don't have the budget for ER trips."

"Fuck you!" Alisha barked in jest.

Jackson pictured Alisha in a classic "bond girl" type dress, complete with the fire-engine red color, so that's what he ordered for her by phone. The upper class scale of the business made all of the Winchesters feel out of place. The tailoring process seemed especially foreign. As they left the store, Alisha couldn't help but eye the plastic-wrapped dress with unfamiliarity.

"Tell him I said hi!" the seamstress smiled to the trio to their backs.

Alisha kicked at Jackson on the floorboard as she entered the Impala. He hurried to interfere as he noticed her handling the piece roughly. Alisha still had no care about how hard she sat down on the dress.

Dean started the car and asked, "So, wanna knock out two birds with one stone and hit the Sunnyside?"

"I'll pass," Jackson said.

"You know I'll keep ya safe," Alisha assured him.

"I have fond memories of these people, Alisha. No."

"You mean the people you say want to murder you now?" Alisha questioned. "I never said I would kill them, just keep you safe. Just give me some trust!" she smiled.

"I really don't get how you don't see why I can't do that very easy," he snapped back.

"Fuckin' dramatic douchebag," she commented drearily, turning her head to hide her expression.

Once the group approached the hotel, Jackson stayed behind so the others could clear his worries. Inside the building however, there was something far worse than any of the killers with whom Jackson worked. Rather, at the desk, there was a small, redhead woman with bright red lips. All three froze as Lisa Reisheart looked at them.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Fuck, what do we do?" Dean asked only to half the parties he'd intended to, as his sister had pretty much vanished.

The two brothers stood side to side with a blank look. In response, Lisa reached for her Billy Club under the desk. It didn't help when both of the fairly vertically-gifted men approached slowly. And then, things hit the fan.

"Lisa, fear not!" Alisha shouted, dragging a heavily covered Jackson behind her. "This is no longer a danger."

Without further ado, Lisa pounced over the counter. Everybody scattered. This wasn't everyone in Alisha's group. This was everybody who had any clue what was happening. Security, visitors, and staff all created waves of panic. Alisha attempted to find an escape route, cutting through the crowd like it was a mosh pit. Just in time, a large bald man walked down the stairs.

"What the Hell is going on here?!" the well-dressed man bellowed.

Jackson seemed to freeze instantly and Alisha moved back inward. Once the man caught Jackson in his eye, he frowned.

"So, you're back. How long were you in for, a few years before your ass crawled back?"

Lisa spit, "Back? What the fuck does that mean, Mr. Low?!"

"It means you need to watch your mouth, Ms. Reisheart. We're all giving Jack here the attention he's needed since day 1, right Jack?"

Jackson still stood frigid stupidly before stumbling submissively towards Mr.. Low, stammering, "Sir, I promise I tried my best to stay away. It was them!"

Jackson began rounding up the Winchesters into one group. One by one, the siblings took turns exchanging expressions of "what the hell?" Once they were gathered, Jackson had never felt a more obvious target on his back. Suddenly, he realized that maybe this was not the best course of action.

Mr.. Lows eyes lingered over the trio, "And what business do you have here?"

Dean and Alisha fight over who spoke first before Dean explained, "We're hunters, and we take care of 'unusual' pest issues. If you want to know more, we may need an office or something."

Mr.. Low stared thoughtfully at the group. He nodded and decided to trust Dean. Formally dressed men escorted them to a seperate room to converse with Mr.. Low. Alisha, for once, was the only one with her head up high. Some of the people she had dealt with in her life might have tortured men to death completely unprovoked, so these ones who leaned so heavily on accountability and couldn't act so unpredictably weren't an issue to her. If anything, this atmosphere was one of the first to feel friendly to her. She shared a polite smile as Mr.. Low entered the room.

"Unusual pests, huh?" Mr.. Low sighs. "This guy didn't attract any feds, did he?" he asks, referring to Jackson.

"No, it's not this asshole. It's something else totally fuckin different," Alisha finally added.

"Alisha, mayb-" Dean tried to stop her.

"Yeah, I get it. I might appraise Hitler, God knows that's how this shit works!" Both Mr.. Low and Jackson now seemed rather fascinated by the basic office decor at this point until Alisha hissed, "Family drama crap aside, we kill monsters. Like, zombies and shit. I only say zombies 'cause that hasn't happened yet, Sam."

"It's never going to happen," Sam muttered in a low voice.

Mr.. Low calculated what these people were saying and then instructed, "Go on."

"Wait," Alisha spit. "No, 'monsters aren't real' rant or anything? Just wave me on?"

Mr.. Low pursed his thin lips, inquiring, "You wanna see the type of corpses I've had to deal with?"

Alisha grinned and shoved herself front and center. With five people in the small office, those closer to the black, wooden shelves had to maneuver to avoid breaking any of the picture frames or trinkets. She practically laid on the desk, like a child at storytime. Mr.. Low chuckled.

"You got yourself a sicko," he commented. "I shoulda been smart and done the same when I brought this guy on."

"Whatever, just show us the goods!"

Mr.. Low slaps down a manilla envelope for the group's viewing. Sam and Jackson stood back and let Alisha and Dean look over the files. A grin spread across Alisha's face as Dean slid her the images. Her tongue clicked as she looked over the bodies, empty of any fat, bone, innards, etc. She kept staring at them as the others exchanged information. She did not look up from the images until Mr.. Low pulled them away and closed the file.

"I think you know enough to do what you need to do, here's your rooms," Mr.. Low concluded.

Nobody said a word back as the group left, everybody just took a key from the large man. Jackson gave a slight respectful nod on the way out. From there Sam sought out people to ask about the incidents. Dean made his way to the buffet. Jackson and Alisha were supposed to do research, and that is what Alisha honestly planned. Still, things don't always go as planned.

As they got settled in the hotel room, Alisha bounced her bag onto the bed and threw her tank top over her head. She followed the bag soon after. She popped up from almost sleeping to pull her notebook from her bag as well as Sam's laptop. She grinned as she hacked passed the login screen. Browsing to find information, she couldn't shake the feeling of being leered at. Although she pushed it off just as more paranoia, she looked up and was proven wrong.

"What the fuck are you eyeballing, Rippner?" she barked.

Jackson spit, "What the fuck do you think I'm looking at, you just had your way with me in an alley! And..." He bit his tongue and quit speaking.

"What!" Alisha demanded with furrowed brows.

"Nevermind. You'll snap if I even fucking tap on that can of worms," Jackson insisted.

"It's not like you're known for your sensitivity or loyalty, manager!"

At first, Jackson opened his mouth to fight more, but then there was a click of understanding in his eyes and he sighed, "that's fair... I guess I can tell you at this point."

As Jackson started explaining his old life, with a pair of only slightly macabre parents who teased him playfully and kept him safe, Alisha was focused. He had a brother too. His family labeled little Michael a miracle because he had been stillborn until something happened. All Jackson knew was that he and everyone else present for the birth were made to go outside, and then a man entered. Next thing they knew, Michael was breathing and moving again. Then came Jack's tenth birthday.

Jackson's birthday was six months later and it was his last moment of normality. He'd heard footsteps and assumed it was one of his parents getting together last minute gifts. He decided to try and sneak a look at whatever was happening. Instead of finding presents, Jackson found himself at Michael's doorway. He was about to shrug and go back to bed when who he had assumed to be his father turned his glowing yellow eyes to him. Little Jackson squeaked and ran out the door. It seemed like only a few moments before the house burst into flames and Jackson's actual father emerged from the structure.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Mr.. Rippner demanded, clutching Jackson's shoulders harshly.

"The-there was something in there!" Jackson whined.

"Yes, Jack, there was! You know what was in there? Your mother and your brother!"

Jackson let out a sob over his father's behavior. Mr.. Rippner stumbled back from his son and moved towards the street. Jackson tried to follow.

"Go!" his father insisted, "Go somewhere safe. I can't keep my feelings where they belong... I'm so sorry, Jack."

Jackson tried to grip his dad's sleeve only to slip away. The man ran out of Jackson's reach, down the dark street. Jackson stood still and cried in the direction of his father. What finally sent Jackson fleeing was a loud Boom! from a car making some sort of collision out of his sight.

"Then, the rumors started," Jackson concluded to Alisha in quiet tears. "None of those orphan assholes could shut the fuck up about how 'Jack Rippner' was fitting, like a fucking ten year old could do something that fucked up. It was just easier to build on their story and take advantage of the illness, you know? So, there it fucking is, not a scrap of manhood left on me. Your turn, bitch."

"There ain't a whole lot left to say after that, except instead of running I froze. And my dad didn't kill himself, he took us hunting. Bu-"

There was a knock at their room's door. Alisha stood and pulled out her custom-built switchblade. Looking out the peephole, Alisha saw her younger brother and opened the door. Sam tried to question her toplessness, but Alisha's raised eyebrow spoke more about the situation than anything else.

"Please tell me you two got something done in here," Sam sighed, running fingers through his hair.

Alisha hissed, causing Sam to glare at her. "Sorry, we got sidetracked," she apologized.

"Right, well I have some notes. Maybe you'll get somewhere," Sam barked sarcastically, crunching the notebook into Alisha's hand. "We're switching shifts in an hour."

Alisha rolled her eyes and slammed the door in Sam's face. The notebook smacked against her palm as Alisha tried to straighten the pages. She plopped against the bed when she finally decided the notebook was good enough. As she read through, her thoughts were interrupted by Sam shouting about his laptop in the other room. Alisha and Jackson smirked at each other as she opened the computer.

"You know you're kind of evil, right?" Jackson commented.

"Mine's slow, the cry baby will live."

Alisha continued typing random keywords and changing expressions. Jackson scooted to Alisha's side and glanced over the book. Seemingly apathetic about Jackson's movements, Alisha slid the notes over for him to see better. He picked up the notes and furrowed his brows as he read over them.

"Have at it," she told him. "I fucking hate when they put me on research first, I never get enough from Sam's bullshit questions."

"I don't think so," Jackson refuted. "Have you considered sex could be where this starts?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Jackson sighed heavily and held out the notes, "Look at how these line up. For the most part, the women were seen with men and vice versa. There's one case, but I can bet you dollars to diamonds this chick is lesbian or something like that."

Alisha took the spiral notebook and looked through, gasping, "Holy fuck, we got a lead."

She hopped forward and pecked Jackson's lips before jumping off the bed. She stripped her pants and practically ripped the red dress from its bag, prompting Jack to pop up and take the garment from her. He made her sit down and then pulled out a makeup kit. She protested at first, but then Jackson got frustrated. He shouted something even he honestly questioned after it was already out.

"Do you think people want to talk to hamburger meat?"

Alisha didn't respond, but she didn't fight any more. So, Jackson began working to lighten her scars and make her just another girl in the hotel. By the end, her face was smokey, powdered, and nothing like it appeared before. In truth, Alisha saw a different woman entirely when she looked herself in the mirror. By no means was her skin canvas-clear, but it still appeared to only have shallow grooves in place of her deep crevices. She went to run her fingertips over the mask just to have the wrist gripped to a halt by Jackson.

She lowered her hand and sighed, "Let's head out for the night. I'll slide on my dress, you let Sam and Dean know. They're just nextdoor, to the right."

Jackson nodded and left as Alisha finished possessing herself with some femme fatale character. Really, that's what she saw more than a transformation. She saw her image being invaded through the large mirror. Jackson was right though, she decided, so she just took her own notepad and opened the fancy white door to the rest of the hotel.

"I found something else," Jackson said urgently, tugging Alisha down the corridor. "I knew those names, each and every single one of them. Coworkers."

"So this thing's going after bastards?" Alisha confirmed.

"Right," Jack said, stopping at a closed off part of the building with only one or two doors.

He opened one to reveal a large ballroom and waved Alisha end. Upon her entrance, nobody lifted their heads. She was just another woman in the party. When people noticed Jackson's presence, however, the room froze. The raven haired Winchester glided to his side as she noticed some of the crowd's expressions.

"Probably didn't expect me to show up this soon," Jackson laughed nervously.

"We're being careful. Mr.. low knows about this," Alisha assured the group, leaning into Jackson. "I've been hiding from pigs my whole life and what's done is fucking done anyway. Anyone kills or does anything to him I don't want, you'll just make sure I'll make sure you cry tonight. Hard."

Feeling Jackson's hand reach around her waist and attempting to embrace the intensity away from her, the hunter suddenly realized she was intimidating the wrong crowd during this fight, noticing Jack's discomfort. She eased her posture and softened herself.

"Just answer a few really fucking weird, non-legal questions, and we'll be off," Alisha promised.

People narrowed their eyes, craned necks, and pondered before they returned to normal. Alisha began navigating through the ocean of people, following Jackson's directions and questioning people whom he approached. As she did this, Jackson was somehow both bored and anxious at the same time. He looked over and over his shoulder like an owl. Then, he felt a soft tap on one while he wasn't. His head turned to that side and saw an attractive woman greeting him.

"Mr.. Rippner," she said amiably. "Welcome back. I'm surprised, considering what has been said lately."

"Yeah, it wasn't my choice, really," he chuckled nervously.

"Yes, somehow you are under the control of Snow White," the stranger said haughtily.

"Oh, I wouldn't call her Snow White," Jackson responded. "She's no princess, just like..."

The woman laughed with a grin, "Losing track of your linguistic skills?"

Jackson snickered, then moved on, stating, "I don't seem to remember you from last time I was here Ms..."

"Autumn. Alexandra Autumn, pleased to meet you," the woman replied, holding out a hand.

Jackson took the hand and kissed her knuckles slightly. Meanwhile, Alisha was ending a conversation with a man who had sharp features. This stranger attempted to get her to deliver a final concluding smile, but she did not have the trust to give him the satisfaction. Rather, she took note of Jackson's amorous behavior with Ms. Alexandra. Shoving through the crowd, Alisha muttered profanities under her breath at the situation. At first, she played it in her head that her voice would be one of reason and logic and both Jackson and the woman would go their separate ways. Unfortunately, these daydreams took darker turns the closer she got to the pair. By the time she arrived, she was livid from Ms. Alexandra's imagined transgressions.

"What the fuck are you doing, succubitch?!" Alisha demanded impulsively, yanking the woman to face her.

"Alisha," Jackson sighed. "This is Ms. Alexandra. Apparently she's new, but she knows how to talk."

Even if Alisha had been knowingly impulsive in her first action, she could practically smell the demon underneath Alexandra's smooth, pink skin. Jackson's drunkenly flirtatious smile said it all. So, the Winchester began tugging at Jackson's sleeve.

"We need to go," she muttered. "Now."

Jackson practically guffawed in her face, chuckling, "Because now you're getting jealous."

When she noticed Ms. Alexandra's evil smirk in response, Alisha urged, "No, we were here for a reason." She started twitching her eyes in a hinting manner in the other female's direction, "I think we've gotten what we need."

"Look, I know your type tends to get a little sketchy with a woman like Ms. Alexandra, but you need to keep your emotions in check now. We're hunting, not dating," Jackson said before turning away to continue chatting with the blonde.

"You know what?" Alisha huffed. "Fuck you. That 'chick' was bisexual, by the way. Let me know if Alex turns into a dude later or if I have another monster to slaughter brutally."

With that, Alisha decided to pick at the food left on silver plates and stands. Considering she would be disappearing soon anyway, she felt no shame in sneaking some into the small opening in the top of her dress. Bread flew in a few directions when the man who'd been speaking to her before returned to catch her in the act. Before he could even take the time to speak, Alisha's eyes were at the tall doors on the other side of the room.

"Come on, Winchester!" the man called, following her to the hallway. "Give me a chance!"

Alisha turned and swiftly yanked a blade from her skirt, glad no one else was present, and held the side engraved with a cross on the man's neck.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know your name the same reason you know me and my sister's breed. We want to stay safe, so we've learned about the hunters." Concluding this thought, the Incubus shoved Alisha to the strangely patterned tile ground, adding, "Rippner is a new addition, it seems."

"Yeah," Alisha slid upwards on her elbows and struggled with her long dress to stand again as she spoke. "He's a trainee...my trainee. If you really know me, you'd know that's a big fucking deal."

"Oh, we know. Nobody dies on your watch unless somebody dies at your hands. We don't have to kill to feed. You've let more than a few 'monsters' go because you know this, so just keep the pillows fluffed. We have plenty more lowlifes to use."

Alisha was about to retort, but saw an opportunity in the creature's words. Instead, she started gravitating to him and grinned.

"I get it," she said in a sympathetic tone. "Both humans and demons can be some evil motherfuckers. I'm glad someone else can tell. What's your name?"

"Jonathan. Jonathan Maryan. Let's head back inside, call it a double date," Jonathan suggested.

"No!" Alisha barked, but then softened her tone. "Jack and I got kinda rough before I left, so I don't want to upset him. I guess he's right, anyway. Can we go by the bar or are you down-low enough to be in public?"

"Actually, no," Jonathan sighed. "Mr.. Low demands that all employees meet in that room or their hotel room. Anywhere else makes things hard to cover."

"Right, my place then," Alisha decided.

The incubus tried to debate against it, but Alisha persuaded him to move with her through the corridors. As they made their way to her room, Alisha kept sharing dainty smiles to keep a subdued appearance. The keycard sensor made a beep to allow the two into the room. Maryan opened the door and ushered Alisha inside. A bottle of bubbly, gold liquid was pulled from the fridge and poured into glasses by Alisha. She snuck a dose of her sedative capsule into one while Jonathan was turned and taking off his coat.

"Here you go," Alisha said, handing over the drugged glass.

She took a seat on the sofa cushion beside Maryan. She feigned together conversation after conversation to pass the time. Really, the only interest of hers was how quickly the incubus' glass was emptied. The empty way in which the creature spoke was getting on her nerves. Just after Maryon's drink was empty, Alisha's lips split into a broad smile. The sedative was ready to kick in and Alisha was ready to vent.

"Well, I believe in the food chain. The only problem is that a lot of prey have defense mechanisms and shit to help 'em out. I don't see the fun in targeting the easy ones except just seeing them struggle." Jonathan's eyes were becoming googly as Alisha rambled. "That's sick, and fucking ball-less. You've taken so many lives, but only some of them actually took one. They were rookies who'd just lost their fucking role model. Not even a damned rapist bit the dust because of you people. But hey, I can see why you don't play fair. That's too hard to win."

Jonathan slouched over in his seat, the breaking glass creating a sharp noise against the wood floor. Now, Alisha was ready to play. She slid out her duffel bag, sorting through to find holy symbols to use on the incubus. Amidst her joy, Alisha heard a buzz against the coffee table in the other room. She let the weapons crash to the floor. Her heart leapt to her chest as she read the text she had received from Jackson. 

You were right. Help. I'm in the bathroom for now.

"Shit," she gasped, scurrying to the kitchen for something more efficient than her usual kills.

She took an ax from the bag and then took it back to the main room. The shiny metal was soon red as she chopped down twice. It took one last hack to completely behead the incubus. The blood erupted from both ends of the thing's neck, so Alisha rolled her neck in frustration and searched for her trash bags to control the mess.

"Good thing I put you on the couch," Alisha declared to the dismembered head.

The bloody head was tossed into a large, black bag before Alisha moved on to sort of wrapping the body in the bag more than she moved the corpse herself. A "do not disturb" sign was attached to the outside of the doorknob as Alisha washed off and changed into her usual jeans and tank top. Her hair was still in rat tails as she rushed out the door with her phone. The only time she took was to quickly text Jackson to find which room to enter.

"You're only getting back to me now?! I could have died so many times by now, hero," Jackson texted.

"Stop wasting time and tell me wtf you are!!!"

Jackson quickly sent only the room number, doing as Alisha asked and not wasting time. Neither did Alisha. The second she could read the number, she broke into a sprint. The adrenaline of worry kept Alisha charged for the pounce. This pounce turned out to be straight into the door rather than through it. An odd groan pushed from her throat in reaction to the pain in her nose. Banging and slamming could be heard on the other side. Alisha stumbled up nervously in unison with the door opening. "Ms.Alexandra", now bearing wings and fangs, tackled Alisha the second she was in view. The drool stunk of some strange odor which could only be described as the scent of spoiled life as the creature chomped away at Alisha's face. Alisha, having only brought her cell phone in her anxiety, could only wave her arms wildly in hopes of doing the succubus harm. Instead, Jackson jumped onto it's shoulders and yanked backwards. Alisha did not even take another strike at the demon.

She just gripped Jack by his arm and hissed, "Let's get the fuck out, dumbass!"

Either way, Alisha had them on the other side of the door before she'd finished scolding Jackson. Once they knew nobody was following, the couple slowed to a regular walking pace. Alisha's eventually was nothing but a saunter. She nearly punched the beeping sensor yelping at her as Alisha held up her card. She'd somehow found a way to slam a door open as they entered the room.

"Why are you like this?" Alisha sighed, slouching into the still splattered sofa.

"I don't know," Jackson replied, causing Alisha to chuckle.

Her thickish eyebrows furrowed before Alisha asked, "I never paid you back for re-traumatizing yourself for my morbid curiosity, did I?"

"No, you didn't. You said you had nothing to share," Jackson replied with impatience.

"Right," Alisha sighed, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes. "Roll me a joint and we can have a little fire to gather around for stormier."

While Jackson took some thin paper and rolled them around marijuana, Alisha went on to explain how she and Spike had met.

Already seventeen year old Alisha was kicked into a fairly hard spot. Fairly hard would be the spot where her father was ready to move to the next case when her girlfriend, Rachel, had died during their last one. Alisha only wanted to stay to say goodbye to her lover, and she begged like hell to say it. In a last ditch effort, she had faked a suicide attempt and cut her wrists. John and the brothers skipped to the next town, leaving her in the Sunnydale mental institution instead of sticking around for the middle Winchester child.

Even as seventy-two hours expanded to over a year with no visits, Alisha had some strange sense of naivety. Being hunters, her family was always busy and visits could be hard in the facility. This thought process allowed her to feel completely at ease approaching the room they had been using during this hunt. The rusted knob only jiggled indicating it was locked. With each turn, it seemed more fear was sent through her veins into her heart.

"No, no, no," the teen begged, turning to look at the parking lot. "Store...they're running errands that's all."

She sauntered down the black, metal stairs and took a seat. While she waited for her family, she pushed up by the railing and meandered to the convenience store for a newspaper. Being eighteen, she was more than happy to also finally own a weapon for herself for once. The simple, black handled pocket knife found its way to being less than subtly displayed on her waistband as she returned to the motel. The waiting game went on again until a large shadow loomed over Alisha.

"Can I help you?" the owner asked, hands on her hips.

Alisha popped her chin up at the dark woman standing above her, then meekly answered, "I'm with the Winchester family. I'm just waiting."

The woman adjusted her glasses nervously, morosely explaining, "I don't think you need to do that. They turned in the key and took their stuff. I'm sorry, kid."

Alisha's spine bounced as the office door slammed in the distance. Looking at the girl, one might argue she had taken the news well. Looking inside her head, one could see this was not the case. Every ant on the pavement seemed to be against her, yet stomping on even one made her feel as though she'd lost another creature who might tolerate her existence. All of the obituaries and cases in the paper suddenly made sense to Alisha now, knowing her family was no longer helping the Sunnydale demon infestation. The numbers were overwhelming.

"I-I can't..." she stopped dead in her tracks to gawk at her feet before choking out a sob, "do this shit alone!"

She began running. At first, she had no real destination. The tension was just too much, and Alisha felt she couldn't be so panicked if she didn't have the energy. Then, she approached the cemetery. One tombstone seemed to glare blindingly into her attention. She knew it was because this stone was one of the newest, probably one of the more visited graves. Alisha stepped closer to the glare, Rachel's name coming into her focus in a plain, grey font. The Winchester just collapsed next to it. The wails she let out seemed to be more akin to her attempting to breath her emotions. As her chest bounced steadily yet frantically, she slid the pocket knife into her hand and opened the blade.

It started with a casual slice on the wrist. Then there were several parallel stripes to join. Any part she could reach was fair game as Alisha continued breaking. The controlled slices became harsh ripping and tearing, exposing fat, muscle, and bone. When the final gash was left upon her face, Alisha smiled through the salty tears which now stung her wounds. Her hand found one wound on her stomach, feeling a sickeningly slimy and squishy abnormality.

"Dead people don't need guts anyway," she sighed drunkenly.

There wasn't much time before Alisha had gone unconscious. She only felt herself being lifted by a man before fading to black. Her first sight upon awakening made her squeak in surprise. Spike, whom she'd known as being a loudmouth evil vampire, was holding a sewing needle and repairing her injuries.

"Shut up and hold bloody still," Spike huffed, rolling his eyes, "You caught me at a really bloody odd time."

"Why?" Alisha whimpered. "I want to die. I'm just fucking McDonald's to you."

Alisha could feel Spike's anger at this statement at the next harsh puncture of the needle, even if he wasn't already growling, "So a roadkill cow with its bloody guts smeared one end of the road to another is the same as a bloody Big Mac?"

Alisha looked away in shame. Spike cringed out of slight guilt and slid his bottle of whiskey to her reach. She took it and guzzled until she lost her breath. Morbid curiosity got the best of her when she just raised a forearm to see the damage. Her eyes widened as she realized why Spike had been so disgusted at her. The vampire at her side quickle slapped the hand back out of her view. At first, Alisha was going to argue.

Then, she realized what he meant by the gesture, so she softly smiled, "Thank you," finishing the thought with, "Guess that's what a borderline girl deserves," and falling back into unconsciousness.

Jackson stared in awe when the story was finished, asking, "What happened when you were okay? Did he keep you or did he just drop you? Or did h-wait, no, he couldn't have killed you."

Alisha laughed, "Nope, he did not do that." She collected herself and continued, "He might have thought about getting rid of me at first, but I guess we bonded over the fact that... neither of us had a clue about people... about right and wrong. Both of us just lost too many times to lose each other."

Before Jackson could comment again, there was yet another knock on the door to interrupt the conversation. Again, it was Sam, who forced his head in the room to gawk at the red disaster inside. Alisha hopped up from the couch to Jackson's side.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad. Don't fucking judge us," Alisha spit. "What's up?"

Sam smiled, "Well, it looks like we're done except for clean-up. I was gonna ask you to take care of the Incubus, but..."

"But I already made a geyser of the fucker," Alisha finished. "I'm willing to bet Mr.. Low will help us out with clean-up, considering we just took a massive problem of his. Just sayin'."

"Either way, it's too late to take up another case. 'Night, you two."

"Night, Sam," Alisha responded as they shut the door.

Jackson was making his way to the bedroom until Alisha requested, "Why don't we sleep here?" pointing at the bloodied couch.

"You know you're a sleazy bitch, right?" Jackson asked Alisha, who was only slipping off her jeans to sleep in her tank top.

She waited anxiously on the arm of the couch, watching the bedroom closely. After an hour of staring at the white door, Alisha let out a heavy sigh and fell onto the cushions in an angsty manner. Then, it opened and Jackson was in the stereotypical red, plaid pajamas with neatly slicked hair, entirely groomed. Alisha held back her comments on the look and just sat up to coax him to the sofa with a curling finger. He smirked at her and came closer, sitting beside her. Alisha pounced and kissed Jackson hard enough to lay him down on the furniture piece. The woman brushed a finger along the side of Jackson's face before collapsing on his chest.


	6. What a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Throbbing Gristle

Lisa stared down her glass full of wine, thinking deeply. As much as the past few nights wore on Jackson, they were spilling over into her life. It was all going so well. Her life had seemed so normal, until he came back. She had to admit, though, this time wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He just revealed everything which would ruin her so-called tranquil life later on. Her hand tugged at her full hair as she let out a shrill screech of rage at the situation, downing her glass of wine. She then picked up her phone and dialed Mr. Low’s desk to meet him before passing out onto the counter.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean were packing to leave the hotel in their room. Sam popped out with a certain amount of frustration, slamming the door. As he did, Dean followed shrugging questioningly. 

"It’s just… them. Jack gives me some serious willies. I don’t trust him.”

“She’s an adult, Sam. We can’t do much about it,” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, well, I can still be a little pissed,” Sam huffed, moving to make sure Alisha and Jackson were awake.

“Whoa, I can get them. I think I can hold myself together a little better,” Dean suggested.

Sam rolled his eyes and went back inside his room to begin loading the Impala outside. 

Dean knocked firmly on the door. “Hey, wakey wakey!”

Alisha quickly rolled her black tank down her stomach and hopped towards the door, Jackson playfully tugging at her wrist behind her. She brushed him away with a slanted grin. Dean scratched at his neck as Alisha answered his knocking.

“Yup?”

“Sam and I are packing to head out again, we were thinking like noon. I’m fighting for two, but no promises there,” Dean chuckled awkwardly.

Alisha puffed, “Well, you know me. Three outfits, duffle bag o' death, and…procured materials.” Then, her tone changed, “Wait, why are you being so weird?”

“I’m just catching you up on the plan, how the hell's that weird?”

“You’re doing it like a social moron, and that ain’t your place in the family.”

Dean grumbled, looking, over Alisha’s shoulder. In the room behind her, Dean noticed Jackson in the background fixing coffee. His voice turned to a whisper to keep the conversation from reaching the newcomer. Jackson simply inched closer to the pair out of suspicion. Noticing this, Dean cut his words short.

“You up for a car ride?” He asked Alisha impatiently. 

Interrupting Alisha’s response, Jackson cleared his throat to protest. Her head snapped in his direction to hiss, “Nuh-uh, you’re still a fugitive. And, unless we're missing a big ass piece of the story, you’re guilty enough for us to take some caution.”

“Right, you seem cautious,” Jackson sneered.

“You flirted first and I gave you a minute to think on it. I’m sorry it’s been a minute since I could keep a fucking semblance of a normal relationship instead of working my ass off trying to force an orgasm for some douche in a stall!”

Dean made a noise between a groan and a hum in front of the arguing couple. They turned their heads towards him. Still, they were tense.

“I think I'll just roll by in like an hour or two, whenever you kids calm down.”

“Oh, we grown. How about a half hour?” Alisha said, sharply turning a glare to Jackson.

“We gro-“ Dean pursed his lips and huffed through his nose. “You know what, I won’t poke the bear. See you in a half hour.”

Alisha slammed the door with a passive aggressive smile, turning to change into new clothes. That was until Jackson roughly grabbed her arm on the way to their room. She twisted out of his grip pretty much instantly with a grimace of fury. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” she barked about the act.

Jackson retaliated, growling, “You think I can't see the playground bullshit game you just played? Have Dean take you away so you don't have to worry about some fucking conflict!”

“What fucking conflict! I still don’t get why you're playing along fucking with me if you're going to be so pissed about me riding on your dick!”

“Because you act like your all over me and then you do shady crap like talking about me behind my back with your brother!”

“Oh, I'm the immature one here, I'm playing schoolyard games… right!”

“Yeah, I'm the one who can't leave! I will get arrested and probably locked in some basement if I don’t have a damn safety net!”

“What the fuck does that have to do with us fucking?!” Alisha thrilled. “Jack, grow the hell up! I do not give a fuck what you went through, this is a second chance not a fresh start for you! Call off the pity party!”

“Oh, pity parties! Let’s talk about those! That nice story you told me last night, it made me look up BPD!”

“Jackson Rippner… this better not go where it feels like it’s fucking going,” Alisha said.

“Yeah, it is! I thought maybe I'd find depression and maybe a little impulsiveness, but it turns out you’re batshit! Fucking batshit!” Alisha stormed into the bedroom as soon as he continued his rant, but he still shouted through the door at the woman. “Did you even really want to pick me up, or am I going to wake up one day and have the fucking cops standing over me? Take that anyway you want, hun!”

The door to the room popped open only for Alisha to roughly brush around Jackson for a piece of toast. She flipped him off quickly before raging out of the room. As she went to knock on her brother's door, she harshly brushed shoulders with Lisa. Alisha took the opportunity to grab her by the arm and suggest, “Hey, you interested in a beautiful brunette, long coat bitch? We're starting to see behavioral problems, but he's so sweet,” in a tone abundant with sarcasm.

Alisha simply walked over and knocked on Sam and Dean's door with no further discussion, to Lisa's shock. Instead, she just left with her brother. Inside the other room, however, Jackson was finishing the argument on his own. Given his angered screaming, Lisa decided now wasn’t a good time to ask more about the mysterious hunters.

Alisha practically banged down the door to Sam and Dean’s room. The older brother tossed the door open, narrowing his eyes. 

“Let me guess, you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I'm fucking ready, let’s go!” Alisha demanded.

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket from somewhere behind the door. On the road, both of them were silent with pursed lips. Alisha's eyes kept darting to the side as she slouched back in the dark leather of the seat. The car stopped some time later with dust under the wheels and seemingly nothing else all around.

“Aw man,” Alisha laughed, “you’re about to take me out so you can lose Jack, aren't you?”

Dean licked his lips before pursing them as he rolled a joint in his lap in preparation for this discussion. He still said nothing. Alisha wriggled with annoyance as Dean continued rolling the stick. It wasn’t until he lit the cigarette and took the first puff that he seemed ready to spill his thoughts.

Passing the joint, he questioned, “You get that he’s a killer, right? I've looked to make sure so that you can't pull some technicality bullshit, and he's killed kids. They’d still be just fine, if Jackson Rippner left them the hell alone. Whether he held the gun or not, I know damn well you'd be pissed about kiddie killers unless something fucking major changed here.”

“You really didn't pay attention to my kind of company. We're practically a match made in Heaven. You know, the Heaven that's on fire and full of screaming terror and anguish.”

“Really funny, Alisha,” Dean commented, plucking the joint from Alisha and inhaling.

“Crap, dude, I'm sorry. Hell jokes cross the line now, I forget,” she hissed remorsefully.

“I don't give a damn about the Hell jokes! Look, I get that you've been through the ringer, but you cannot turn to a manipulative prick like that to fix everything. That's exactly what your doing. As much as I don't like to see you using the knife or the needle, he ain't much better. Just because he won't literally kill you, don't mean he won't pull some mind games when you two are past the schoolyard phase.” 

Alisha wrinkled her nose, hissing, “You’re pissed I’m getting into reckless and immature relationships? I think I can name more of the girls you’ve boned than you, you fucking man-whore. And, talk about causing mental pain, Sam abandoned me when it came down to it! We gonna dump him for that? I got scars to show what that shit did to me.”

“I just told you I get all that, and I'm fucking sorry, okay? I didn’t plan to drop dead and I didn't plan for Sam to pick up and leave like that, but that don't mean you get to flake your problem on everyone else.”

On that note, Dean stepped out and slammed the door behind him. Alisha was left with the smoking, rolled stick of pot. She took one large chug of smoke before pressing the joint to her tongue and tucking it behind her ear. Dust formed a small cloud as Alisha stepped out her side of the car and it made a train in Dean’s direction. 

“You gonna pass that or something?” 

Alisha snarled, “Are you fucking kidding?” crushing the unfinished cigarette from behind her ear.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, “Damn, you’re really pissed aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m mad! You can’t just fucking say it? You baby me when you want to, ignore me when you don’t, but you won’t even acknowledge why the fuck I need that in the first place?”

“Everyone knows you’re sick, Alisha, we get it,” Dean grumbled.

Not a word was said after this. Alisha took a clomp forward and shoved Dean. Her brother stumbled backwards, digging the tip of his shoe into the ground for balance. As Dean opened his mouth for rebuttal, Alisha pushed again. Dean shook his head and attempted to move back to the Impala. Before he could, Alisha made a hyena run Dean's way. Both were in the dust, Dean pinned nervously under his sister. 

She raised a fist, spitting, “If I were Sam, you would have me all battered and bruised! Why the fuck am I so special?” When he didn't come up with an answer, she let her fist go and screamed, “Now you have an excuse! Just fight me, dick!”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grunted while hustling Alisha off of him and stepping on her back.

Alisha gripped his ankle and tripped him to keep the altercation from ending. But, just as she was reeling for another punch, she stumbled back into a jagged rock in the plains. Her fists pounded the ground as she repeatedly cursed at it, though she didn’t stand again. She just let her forehead burn against the dirt.

“Just get in the damn car so we can go back to the frickin' hotel. I mean, only if you’re done with your hissy fit.”

In Alisha’s darkness, she heard Dean’s footsteps moving farther away. Slowly, her hair moved up like a curtain. Alisha, now sitting up, rolled to her feet and brushed her hands over her knees and elbows. She was urged to move by Dean honking the horn of his car. So, she trailed her way to the passenger side, her dirt footprints becoming slightly elongated with her gait. Her door slammed as she entered the Impala once again. Suddenly, she regretted discarding the joint in the beginning of the conflict. This was especially felt in Dean's silence on the way back to the hotel.

Sam, inside his room, hung up his phone the phone on a heavy note. He'd just began attempting to put together the information which he'd received about Alisha when the door opened and Dean returned from his drive with Alisha. He still sat in a catatonic-like silence as Dean glanced at Sam with a raised eyebrow. Finally tucking his phone into his pocket, he cleared his throat and began fumbling with some papers on the marble coffee table in front of him.

“Who was that?” Dean asked, cocking a brow.

Sam contemplated before responding, “It was that ‘Angel’ guy. I just thought I'd try to figure out what bug's been up Alisha's ass since we got her this last time… Apparently it's a pretty big one.”

Dean's blood ran cold, “Define ‘big’.”

Sam stood and sauntered to the fridge, taking out a bottle of beer and handing it to Dean. The older brother took a seat on the white sofa, realizing the weight of the news he was about to hear. The cap on Dean's drink cracked onto the carpet at his feet as Sam relayed what he'd learned from his phone call. As he spoke, Dean was becoming increasingly regretful of his interaction with Alisha. This is why, as soon as his discussion with Sam was concluded, he leapt up and headed out of the room to pound on the door to Alisha’s. Jack opened the door, his expression instantly hardening at the sight of Dean.

“Yeah?” Jack question curtly.

“Jack, you gotta keep an eye on ‘Lisha if you’re alone with her. I know we've been treating you like crap since you showed up, but I really hope you can set that aside for her.”

“It’s actually Jackson, and I don’t think Alisha's all that fond of the way you keep dropping the ‘A’. It's not that hard. Also, your sister is a grown damn adult. She doesn't need a babysitter.”

“No, she needs suicide watch!” Dean roared. “I heard you through the wall, I know you know this isn't an age thing. You don't want her to be ‘batshit’? Fucking help her! Either that or…”

“You fuckin' serious?” Alisha interjected, walking out with her duffle bag. “We just got done settling this bullshit, and you're already starting up again.”

Dean explained, “We talked to Angel. Sam did, and he told me everything that happened… everything you lost. We're caught up, for real this time.”

The bag plopped to the floor as Alisha's lips parted and commanded, “Jackson, go to the bedroom while the grownups talk.”

The door slammed behind the siblings while both of them stared silently. Dean slowly closed the door opening to the hall, emphasizing his docility. Alisha could see it. Because of this, Alisha felt a bubbling between her heart and stomach as well as a trembling in her joints. Her knees buckled her onto the couch perpendicular to Dean and she lulled forward with her elbows on her knees. Her brother brushed away the oil-black hair pouring around Alisha's face. They smiled in understanding, but nothing else until they found the words.

“I know I've been acting a cunt lately,” Alisha shuttered. “But, now you fucking know why! There's only so much death a person can be buried in before that shit starts to eat at you! I can feel it; the god damn devouring at the humanity I have left.”

“The humanity you have left? You lost part of your soul, and that ain't everything. You could sell the other half for a deck of cards, you're still one of us,” Dean urged. Alisha just shook her head loosely, so he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Here’s Spike's number. Knowing the little reputation you had going back then, I feel like maybe a bastard bloodsucker who toned it down is better than…”

“A caustic cunt?” Alisha supposed.

Dean chuckled, Alisha joining in not long after. Dean had figured he'd gotten as deep as he could in this discussion, so he left with just a few more parting words of encouragement. There was some talking outside when Dean knocked again.

“Better be the last time for a minute,” Alisha said, opening the door.

“I guess we're going pretty soon. We just got a new case, and I think you might like it,” he replied.

“I like any case,” Alisha grinned. “But since this one's right up my fucking alley, I'll bring my bag right down. It's already together. Like I said, didn't take long. Not sure about Metrosexual, he hasn't been let out of the cupboard yet.”

“Did you really just frickin’ reference Harry Potter?”

The younger sibling stuck her tongue out childishly before disappearing behind the door. Quickly, she tossed the duffle bag over her shoulder and pounded on the bedroom door for Jackson's attention. When he came out, Jackson found only an empty room and briefly heard Alisha shouting for him.

“We’re leaving pretty soon, get your shit together!”

In the corridor, she felt an odd sense of giddiness. It was like a sort of freedom. Even if Jack didn't let up his judgement of her moody behavior, everyone else knew who was just. The Winchester was so lost in her elation, she was simply gliding over the red carpet. However, she did not notice that the hallways were not entirely hers for gliding. A much more aware Lisa gave a hiccup before Alisha collided harshly with her, the bag pushing her with full impact.

Alisha painfully hissed, “Fuck! Look, I'm sorry for running into you, but why the fuck are you stalking us? We'll get Jack out of your hair in a jiffy and your regular life will be right back where it is!” She stood and dusted her knees dramatically, “Bada Bing Bada Boom.”

“Yeah, except it's not,” Lisa argued. “Maybe it sounds ordinary to you people, but I didn’t exactly see myself managing a mobster headquarters or whatever this is. Honestly, I like the number of murderers I interact with to be a flat zero. Since I guess that's not an option, I'm at least taking control of this Titanic of a life I got stuck with!”

Alisha held out her hands nervously, begging, “Please don't kill Jack. I'm usually not a ‘violence isn't the answer' kind of asshole, but I feel like being hypocritical is better than encouraging you to take that kind of left turn.”

“What?” Alisha exclaimed. “No-I just mean- Do you guys have room for one more on your team?”

Shocked, Alisha drawled, “Still… Same sentiment. You don’t take this life up as a hobby. Jack's only here because the only perk between hunting and prison is that you have a trashy hotel room to hide in while you cry in fetal position when you're a hunter.”

“So, what you’re saying is I may get to experience Jack Rippner crying in fetal position?” Lisa asked mischievously.

“Lisa,” Alisha whined. “Don’t pull at my heart like that. I'd love to use you against the prick, too, but-“

“What if I call the police?” Lisa threatened. “I’ll leave Mr. Low alone and stay safe, but he really just wands Jack gone one way or another. I mean, you two don't sound like a married couple at all, but may-“

The wall shook as Lisa was aggressively shoved against it and Alisha urgently muttered, “Don’t you fucking dare. You would take everything by just calling for Jackson. I'm trying to fix my losing streak, so it'd be nice of you not to contribute to the insane fucking amount of losses I've seen.” 

“Jesus, alright!” Lisa cried. “Let me go!”

Alisha released the redhead, continuing to stand taller than natural. Still, she kneeled to lend a hand to Lisa and pick her up. Pressing her palm to her forehead, Lisa let a few heavy breaths from her lungs. Her eyes narrowed at Alisha as she regained composure.

“Wow, talk about seeing double,” she commented.

“That supposed to hurt?”

“No, it's just a fact,” Lisa responded.

Alisha hummed, looking towards the check-in counter. She noticed her party of three in front and smiled softly. A gentle hand touched Lisa's shoulder.

She slyly inquired, “Hey, are you still on the counter? If you are, you got one more check-out. Go ahead and make it yours, too.” With that, Alisha huffed her bag to her shoulders again and marched towards the counter, laughing to herself, “What a day!"


End file.
